


the monster's mother

by ijemanja



Category: Alien: Resurrection (1997), Aliens (1986)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5064835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijemanja/pseuds/ijemanja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long time ago, Newt was scared, and hungry, and alone. Newt isn't any of those things anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the monster's mother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



Newt rests her head on Ripley's shoulder as they sit side by side amongst the rubble. She wishes she wasn't too big to sit in Ripley's lap, but she's not the little girl she was when they were last together. She fit so easily in Ripley's arms, then. It was nice. 

The scientists didn't want to halt her development too early, they said. It was important to see how she turned out. She's almost as tall now as the android, Call - the one who came and found her in her small, locked room. 

She didn't mind it there, much. Always felt safer in small places. Except that it was so empty, and a little too clean.

Earth is neither clean nor empty. It looks like a lifeless dump of a place, but Newt can tell there are humans around. She can smell them. A step up from smelling monsters everywhere, sure. Although Newt has long since come to the conclusion that they're often the same thing.

"Hey kid, hungry?" Call appears and drops a ration pouch in her lap. She hands another one to Ripley as she sits on her other side.

Ripley opens hers and downs the contents in two bites while Newt is still toying with the flimsy metallic wrapper. 

Ripley nudges her. "Eat it."

There's a snort from Call. "Yes, mom."

Newt looks up at Ripley and sees her mouth twisting in amusement as she looks over at Call. Newt allows herself a small smile and says, "Can't send me to my room. We blew it up."

They laugh. Newt's smile grows. She tucks her hand around Ripley's arm, watching as Ripley peels the wrapper off the protein bar and hands it back to her. She takes an obliging bite, though she isn't hungry. 

On the ship, they gave her food on a tray three times a day. She ate it with her hands, whatever it was. She was eating mashed potatoes when the door opened and Call was there.

She doesn't remember ever being hungry, although she knows she was once, before.

 _She_ was, anyway. That other Newt. 

But that was a long time ago.

She stows the protein bar in a pocket and holds onto Ripley's arm, which is strong and hard under the skin with muscle. And right there, halfway between wrist and elbow, she finds it.

Newt traces the number 8 tattooed on Ripley's forearm with the tip of her finger. Then, slowly, she pushes up her own sleeve and puts her arm out to show them what they already know is there. Ripley and Call look at her arm.

"35," Ripley says.

"Fuck," Call says. She stands up. "Fucking fuckers. Fuck." She walks away, still swearing.

"Fuck," Newt solemnly agrees.

It's a while before Ripley says anything. First, she puts her hands on Newt's arm and rolls her sleeve back down, covering the tattoo from sight. Her hands are gentle, but her voice is hard. "Guess they needed the practice, huh?"

"But even when they had me, they didn't get what they wanted." 

"None of them got what they wanted. Assholes." Ripley laughs shortly. "Dead fucking assholes - my favourite kind."

"Dead fucking assholes." Newt rubs her finger over Ripley's tattoo again. 

She could match the scar on her chest to Ripley's, too, where they took one of the monsters out of her. But that was the problem, as far as Newt could tell. Just one of them wasn't enough. 

Even monsters must get lonely. And cold, sometimes. Hungry, maybe. They don't get scared, though, not ever. A long time ago the monsters killed her mom and dad, her brother, everyone else. But even when Ripley and the soldiers came and started fighting them, the monsters weren't scared.

A long time ago, that happened. Newt was scared, then, and hungry, and alone. Newt isn't any of those things anymore. Now, she's something else.

She makes her hands into fists. Her muscles are hard under her skin, and her skin doesn't break easy, but she wouldn't be afraid if it did - if her skin opened up and her blood poured out. She wonders if Ripley feels like this. Like the fire inside her veins could burn everything down. She wants to know if Ripley thinks that's as good an idea as she does.

She doesn't ask. Doesn't really need to.

"What are we?" she whispers to Ripley instead. Because whatever they are, they are the same.

Ripley lifts her arm and settles it around Newt's shoulders. "Alive."

Newt smiles. "Alive fucking assholes?"

"Now you're getting it."

She pulls the protein bar from her pocket. Maybe she's a little hungry after all.


End file.
